Every time I saw my mother she was knitting. Collecting wool and knitters. Her friends began knitting squares and recruiting others from their local bridge clubs and bible classes. Piles of squares sat on tables and chairs, patchwork blankets began to materialise on the living room floor. At the same time I was working on oral history projects and documentary films collecting memories, photographs and footage and working them together to tell a story.
The idea for this film then began from separate strands as I explored ways to explore my own family story. A story of dislocation and a search for roots. Living 7,000 miles away from the country I was born in I begin to pepper my father with questions. I asked him to write and send me descriptions of people and events, searching for clues amongst his papers and photographs when he can find them and remember why he is looking for them. I began to imagine the possibility of drawing together disconnected fragments of stories and images to create a patchwork film, as it were.
My mother, however was more reluctant to participate in such a reductive exercise, critical that complex nuances of a mixed heritage and heartbreaking secrets and sadness cannot be fairly reflected and committed to paper. Instead she has allowed me to record the stories she chooses to tell. My mother loves telling stories. There was one particular story which seemed central to the film I was beginning to visualise, a story of when her uncle declared his intention not to be Jewish anymore by changing his name from Isaac to Jim.
Finally I was intrigued by the prospect of a knitathon being held at the World Jewish Relief warehouse in Neasden the hub of the Pomknits Project which has successfully built an amazing and diverse group of women whose wit and energy is undiminished by heir own ill-health and worries as they work with creativity and dedication towards the target of knitting 5,000 blankets to send to Jews struggling to survive extreme poverty and temperatures in Eastern Europe. WJR originally grew out of the work of the British Council for German Refugees set up in 1933 which organised the mass evacuation of Jewish children from Nazi occupied Europe known as the Kindertransport. It’s primary purpose now redundant WJR now supports those pockets of Jews who have remained. I imagined the knitathon would be like those huge fundraisers which go on all night. The reality was less ambitious but more colourful and interesting than I had hoped. The women, engrossed in their knitting, bagels and gossip prepared for the arrival of a film crew and dressed and made themselves up ready for the camera. They watched us out of the corner of their eyes and then forgot about us. What I hadn’t expected was the eagerness to talk. Judy began with her story about her escape from Germany on the Kindertransport and we began to understand the strength of feeling for those that had been left behind in Germany and Eastern Europe.
This then was no longer the film I began, it became a women’s tale. with reflections on childhood dreams and memories and the ties that bind us – sometimes expressing real anger and disappointment. There is little talk about where the blankets are going . But we see the hours of work and dedication that goes into making these beautiful blankets they send off to men and women they do not know and cannot communicate with. This reveals a deep and heartfelt human connection that somehow does not need discussion. The blankets are made and sent with real love.